Walking Away Too
by anotherweasley
Summary: Tim walks away at the end of the last episode of Homicide....


Walking Away Too  
By: Olivia  
  
Seven years flash through my mind. Seven years of tears, laughter, fear, anger, confusion, and happiness. It has all boiled down to this one moment in time.  
  
I glance down at my work possessions stuffed into this old, beat up box. There are some things, more important things, that I can neither leave behind nor carry away in this box. They are the things that are a part of me and wherever I go, so will they.  
  
I push the door open with my back before anyone notices, before anyone tries to question or stop me. I don't want to say good-bye. I don't want to tell anyone where I'm going. I just want to leave, to vanish. I want it to be as if I never existed in this place. The only person who I would need to say good-bye to left me a year ago.  
  
I came to this department seven years ago full of ideals and enthusiasm. I wanted to be a thinking cop. I wanted to be the murder police. I wanted to be part of this higher calling. All I am left with is my disillusionment and disappointment in our justice system. The rose-colored glasses have been ripped away and all I see is the ugliness that surrounds me, that is inside me. Maybe this is why Frank walked away. Maybe he too saw what now I see.  
  
I shift the box in my arm. I'm at the bottom of the ramp, but I turn to look back one last time at the spot where Renee and I spoke a few days earlier. She knew then what took me so long to figure out for myself-I love Frank Pembleton.  
  
I cannot deny it any longer, at least to myself any way. I am lost without my compass, my friend, my... It never would have amounted to anything even if Frank had known how I feel about him. Frank loves Mary and the kids. And I adore them all too. They were the family I never had. I tried to do everything I could for them and for Frank. I tried to be Frank's friend. The ugly truth is that Frank has no friends. What I have taken for friendship is really just a figment of my imagination. We were just partners, colleagues, co-workers, and yet my heart tells me that I am still lying to myself.  
  
I turn back around and head out the door, out of the building, into the blinding sunlight. I want to run into the shadows, hide myself away from my guilt, from my crime. In my heart I know what I did is right. I have saved Ryland's future victims from almost certain death. And yet my nagging conscious tells me that I have broken my oath, that I am no better than Ryland. Frank would have never killed Ryland. I wish Frank was here so I could talk to him, borrow his strength for moment as I have so often in the past. And yet I fear, I fear what his eyes might say to me if he knew what I have done. He would never have believed I'd be capable of this. And yet I am.  
  
I reach my car and nearly drop the keys as I open the trunk. My hands are shaking. I toss the box inside and slam the trunk closed  
  
I think back to that night, that night I threw myself in front of Frank, taking that bullet for him. Without a second thought, I stepped in front of him. I loved him. I love him. All I could think of was that I needed to protect him. And the guy I love, whose life I protected speaks to me what, twice in one year? He's the one that left me! My partner left me. My partner. The words stick in my throat.  
  
I get into my car and start the engine. I move the gear shift into drive and pull out, out into the street, driving away from Homicide, away from Charm City.  
  
I'm free. I'm free. I'm free of Frank's empty chair that has haunted me, that mocks me. I'm free of memories, free of demons, free of the ugliness of murder, free of people who sit in judgment of me. If only I could free myself from loving Frank Pembleton. Then maybe, maybe I could be happy.  
  
The End  
  
"Every murder turns on a bright hot light, and a lot of people...have to walk out of the shadows."-Albert Maltz  
  
"Out, damned spot; out I say."-Shakespeare-"Macbeth"  
  
"Love's boat has been shattered against the life of everyday. You and I are quits, and it's useless to draw up a list of mutual hurts, sorrows, and pains."-Vladimir Mayakovsky 


End file.
